


ultraviolet nights

by babybun



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV), The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - Punk, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6873649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybun/pseuds/babybun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alicia swears she won't get tangled in any bar fights or waste her time with oddly attractive thugs. But thanks to Elyza, she somehow manages to fail both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ultraviolet nights

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Mentions of homophobia (this is the 80's, after all).
> 
> UPDATE (24/06/16): [ danagrint ](http://danagrint.tumblr.com) has made some fabulous art/aesthetics for this fic, so feel free to check them out and give them some love [ here.](http://oddbt.tumblr.com/search/ultraviolet+nights)

 

**i.**

 

The fight begins at 8 o' clock sharp, and the first skull snaps just a few seconds following. To anybody else, the roaring crowds and whiplash of blood would be enough to drive a group of barely-there teens a mile away in any direction, but the ultraviolet hue of the pub is enough to rein in Alicia's curiosity, and with that: her wallet.

The entire night, she manages to avoid the attention of Nazi skinheads and drunken civilians alike, alongside the agonizing strain of social interaction. It's not like she  _despised_ watching an oil-slicked and intoxicated Nick shamelessly feeling up one of his friends underneath the stage's balcony, or that she would rather be at home indulging in a pack of cigarettes rather than observing some air-headed punks chug down water beer, but the situation wasn't exactly ideal.

It's just that a), the only excuse she has to stay in the bar is her half-empty glass of vodka and coke (which has quickly become a sad puddle of amber alcohol and not much else), b), the band playing tonight has been drowned out by the bar fight to such an extent that all that's left of them is a distant hum of an electric guitar and c), she swears the 30-something-year-old nursing a Sex on the Beach at the bar has been eyeing her for the past thirty minutes.

So it's not that much of a shock when the bartender swaggers her way with a tray topped with few too many vodkas and cokes, and it's certainly not enough to send Alicia into a surprised state when the bartender sets down two glasses with a suggestive, "Consider your phone number your payment."

Crunching down onto a particularly relentless peanut, Alicia hitches both studded boots onto the bar table and raises a cocky eyebrow. "You what?" 

Almost on cue, two bald-headed security guards swerve around the bar and grab the bar fighters by the scruff of their collars, immediately causing the entire building to zip their lips and watch in avid amusement. Thankfully, the [music pipes back up again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nB_tGab-t0g) with the beginning of what sounds to be a drum solo. One guy - who is clearly halfway through a high - even rips his shirt in half and dives into the pit.

The bartender tightens his apron with a jiggle of the hips. "The gentleman at the bar. Your number. I'll let you do the math, sweetheart."

"Nice one," Alicia chuckles, and feels the vibrations in the pit of his belly. She bops her mouth around the candy-pink straw and watches it swim in her drink for a moment or so, before catching it in a moment of triumph. Alicia glances back up at the impatient bartender with a cheeky smile and leans closer to allow a whisper.

"Tell him he can fuck off," followed by a pop of the lips and a moment of thought. "Not really into grandpas."

Long story short, the bartender looks horrified. In fact, he looks horrified all the way back to the bar. But _Alicia_ feels a sense of burning pride at flipping someone the bird and turning down a potential date offer.

It wasn't like the guy was unattractive or anything - he actually had quite ruggedly handsome features as well as a sharp sense of fashion - but Alicia had two worries: being drugged and dumped God knows where (especially after recent school assemblies) and - God forbid - one of her parents getting to the house phone before her.

But regardless, none of that changes the fact that Alicia damn near feels invisible. If it were not for the roaring crowd of intoxicated teenagers then she'd feel almost awkward, and despite how much she enjoys her own company - sitting on her own in a bar whilst cradling a nearly-empty beverage looked somewhat of pitiful from afar.

Which is the exact reason that she decides to wrench herself from her cesspool of self-pitying and weave through the grinding sea of dancers and pounding music to set herself at the bar. By now, her ears are begging to be allowed to pop and the volume of the music seems to be have been cranked up by an absurd amount, but either way, Alicia is more distracted by the relentless shove that comes her way.

It's like a brick wall hitting her at full force, and Alicia swears all of the breath in her chest has been knocked out of her as she collides with another customer - a customer, who happens to be at least 60% muscle, which begs a cause for concern when Alicia already feels the bruises burning on her skin. She stumbles, feels her hipbone hit the rosewood wood of the bar, and lets out a pained yelp.

"Oh shit, I'm so fucking sorry-" comes a panicked voice from above, but the girl is too busy cradling her aching hip to meet the source of her injuries. In fact, she spends a good few moments pondering whether she should knee the asshole right in the groin and spit on their face. It's what Nick would do, but Alicia remembers who she is and forces a tight-lipped grin.

"No, no," Alicia says, and isn't sure whether she's reassuring herself or the stranger. She looks upwards as she speaks. "It's not your fault-"

And stops.

Because despite the stranger having absolutely poor coordination, Alicia finds herself gulping breathlessly through a mixture of anticipation and nervousness at how very, _very_ attractive they are. The very first thing to catch the teenagers eye is a widened pair of beautiful baby blue pools, of which are currently filled with concern and panic. A sharp nose, smooth cheekbones and a shade of off-tan skin decorate the strangers face, alongside a small mole resting by their wavering lips.

Albeit, the stranger - a woman, actually - has some imperfections. For one, she stinks of cannabis, a combination of lager and menthol floods her breath - so strong Alicia cringes - and her ripped jeans and spiked jacket are thread-bared without much hope of repair. The woman's hair is a fierce and golden blonde, despite her tangled locks spilling messily over her shoulders at all angles and being shaved unprofessionally at the side. A silver nose ring hooks the woman's nostril and the metal of it reflects Alicia's shocked expression. Alicia finally reminds herself to close her jaw and take a goddamn  _breath_. 

In that moment - in that tiny, insignificant moment, Alicia learns the meaning of perfect imperfection.

An ultraviolet shimmer of light casts over the two of them as the club suddenly darkens; so much so that the sea of dancers appears to be nothing but a black block. Alicia loses sight of Nick, and the pounding in her chest isn't helped by two of the woman's tanned fingers trailing softly over her elbows, her fingertips dancing over the flesh in little steps which make Alicia's chest flutter with each soft movement. The woman is staring, quite crudely, actually, and lets her jaw fall slack so she can go all Cheshire Cat and smirk widely. 

Long story short, Alicia forgets about Nick. 

And then the woman has the fucking nerve to say (in an oddly attractive Australian accent), "If I knew I was going to bump into such a pretty girl, I would've made more of an effort."

Now, internally, Alicia has to mute herself so she doesn't let out a high-pitched yell. Here she is, stood underneath the purple hue of a bar with her elbows in another girl's grasp, the situation perfect in sync with a cliche fairytale (which is stupid, but Alicia's a big believer in fate). However, on the outside the teen is forcing a painful smile, keen to stay all calm and dainty as she's practically being stroked by an intimidatingly good looking thug. 

With all that in mind, she tucks a purple strand of hair behind an earlobe and flashes her teeth, smile all knowing and cheeky.

"Good one." she says a bit sarcastically, keen to let the girl know it _wasn't_ a good one. "Do you usually hit on strangers after shoving into them or am I an exception?"

The woman retorts with an even larger smile and proceeds to carefully remove her soft digits from Alicia's elbows. The brunette feels slightly empty upon the removal of the stranger's flesh on hers, but soon dismisses it when the edge of her pink tongue darts out, wets the skin of her bottom lip in a fashion that is almost certainly taunting, before a tooth peeks out to gnaw the skin of her upper lip.

Alicia's lips are the opposite of the woman's: thick and a bit crooked. She has to jerk herself out of trance-like state when she imagines what it would be like to kiss her.

"It depends," the woman continues, and digs through the pocket of her tartan jeans to fish out a crumpled cigarette. Clamping it between teeth, she begins searching for what Alicia can only presume to be a lighter. "I don't often meet pretty girls, and I don't often bump into them, either-hey do you, uh, have a lighter I could borrow, sweet cheeks?"

Electing to ignore the latter comment, Alicia decides on rolling her eyes lazily. Nevertheless, she does end up reaching for own lighter - one of many, actually, and she'd even customized this particular one with a mermaid sticker from one of her cousin's dolly magazines - and passing it over to the stranger, whom is currently flagging down the bartender.

"Thanks, pumpkin," and she takes it gratefully, immediately flicking the coil and guiding it's amber-orange flame to the edge of her cigarette. It lights within an instant, and she puffs and suckles on it carelessly, observing Alicia over the edge of the stick.

"You are quite something, actually," she says, giving the girl an obvious once-over, eyes darting everywhere at once. "you come here often?"

Alicia squints, feeling a bead of sweat form on her temple and the warmth from the bar's lights burning the back of her shirt. "Do _you_?"

Throwing her arms up in self-defense, the woman swaps her smile for a momentary frown. "I was going to offer to buy you a drink. They do discounts for regulars."

_Shit._

Alicia gulps, swallowing down whatever was left of her pride as her cheeks burned a furious red. "Yeah, sorry. Didn't expect you to pick me up with one of the most overused lines in existence. That's cheesy at it's best."

Taking the comment as a misread compliment, the Australian mimes a half-assed salute, before sinking into the cushion of her bar stool and crushing the remnants of her cigarette in a glass ashtray. "That's me, Captain Cheesy Mc. Fuckface. And you are--"

"Alicia," Alicia spits, exactly the same time as the woman barks out, "Fishnets."

Seeing Alicia's obvious confusion and puzzlement, the blonde woman extends a bronze fingertip to Alicia's choice of attire. 

" _Fishnets_ ," she repeats, Cheshire Cat smile returning like an infectious case of cheekiness. "Not saying I don't like it, but-"

Heat flooding her face once more, Alicia folds her arms casually and quirks a perfectly-arched eyebrow. "But?"

Opening her lipsticked mouth to speak again, the stranger is interrupted by a pat on the shoulder by the still-mortified bartender, who pushes an Orgasm her way with a customer-friendly smile. She sips at it nonchalantly, making gross slurping noises, before spinning on the heels of her boots to continue the conversation.

"Where was I?-oh, yeah. Not saying I don't like fishnets on my women, but some jackass might hoot at you on the corner. And you know how the guys around here are. No respect, not even for their mothers."

Fiddling with one of the loose threads on her vest shirt, Alicia frowns a little, unsure but still somewhat curious. There's a burning in her chest that might just be indigestion but intuition tells her otherwise. She'd forgotten how it feels to feel for a while now, but this woman has somehow awoken those feelings from it's crypt. 

"Pretty sure I can defend myself, mom," Alicia chuckles, and places her hand over the woman's palm in a condescending manner, patting the skin gently. "But I appreciate you looking out for me. Looks like 'sour outside, soft inside' is truly a thing when you look in the right places."

"Maybe it is, or maybe you'll have to look some more," the blonde quips, shrugging off her spiked jacket and- _holy moly_ , Alicia has to brace herself for free fall. The woman isn't ripped or overly-muscular, but she's extremely well-built and has perfectly-carved ridges and muscles over the stretch of her forearm. Her skin is rough, probably from the bar fights and fights in general, but Alicia remembers how soft her fingertips felt on her elbows and shivers. 

"I'll let you know when you find it," she says, and Alicia stops staring at her muscles for a moment, glancing back at the woman.

She's about to ask her to repeat, but is thrown off by how delicate and raw the woman is underneath the ultraviolet lights, the lines on her face and upper arms coloured with a deep lilac. Alicia can see her perfectly in the cracked darkness, and takes a moment to study, memorize and cherish every dip and curve of the woman's face.

"Yeah," she whispers, light as a feather, "let me know when I find it."

Despite the fact that the world was still turning, the band was still playing - albeit, it had swapped it's Black Flag tribute for [something far sweeter and more melancholic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dsGODTySH0E) \- and the hue of the bar continued to shine down on every dancer like a heavenly glow, Alicia felt as if time was stopping for her in particular. And she had no clue as to why, but the woman's face reminded her or something - no, someone. A face with no name.

The Cheshire Cat smirk dematerializes; and the woman's face deflates considerably. She twiddles Alicia's mermaid-sticker lighter between two, slender fingertips and glances at the ground, the edge of a tribal-esque tattoo peeking over the rim of her shoulder. She lets out a long sigh, before grabbing her Orgasm and examining the contents left.

"Well, Fishnets," she says through a quirky grin, juggling her muscular shoulders and raising her head to join baby blue pools with grass green ones. "I gotta say, it was absolutely exquisite chatting with you on this fine evening, but I have other affairs to attend to."

Feeling her heart sink into her boots, Alicia tries to ignore the stabbing pain in her chest and settles for a bored expression instead. "You got other girls to barge into?"

Sliding her empty glass down the rosewood bar lane, the woman chuckles and shakes her head from left to right, looking up at the teen with glassy eyes and menthol on her tongue. "I wish. Girls like you aren't exactly a dime a dozen, unfortunately."

Feigning emotion, Alicia clutches at her chest and teases an, "Ouch, my heart."

For a moment or so, the stranger looks somewhat sincere as she shrugs her slicked spiked jacket back on over her shoulders, tucking golden locks back onto her front and allowing a mindless grin to dance on her lips thereafter. "Yeah, that thing's useless. In my experience, feelings almost always get you screwed over."

"Thanks the the advice," Alicia stalls, wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as possible.

"No problem, sweetheart," replies the woman, as she hauls a worn backpack over her shoulders, before extending two fingers to form that of a pistol. She presses them to her lips and smacks both buds as loud as possible, before winking at the teen feverishly.

"Anyway, must dash," and Alicia feels her heart beat as the Australian slips her previously borrowed lighter back into the hand of it's rightful owner. "T'was fun to chat, I look forward to seeing your fishnets around the town in the near future."

And to exaggerate that point, she points the finger pistol to her rear and lets out a hiss, before turning to leave and disappearing into the night.

After several stunned moments, Alicia gains enough level-headed sanity to glance back at her lighter, and feels a sharp sense of curiosity when she notices that a slip of paper has been tucked on the side.

She flicks it open with a thumb, heart beating wildly in her chest.

 

_give me a call._

_xxx-xxx-xxx_

_i'll see you then._

_Elyza Lex_

 

And long story short, Alicia doesn't get a wink of sleep that night. 

 

**ii.**

 

To her credit, Alicia attempts to make an effort to contact Elyza again, but life seems to hold some kind of non-mandatory grudge against her.

First off, 1), her parents almost always track the calls from the house phone, so it'd be impossible for her to chat with Elyza without their conversation being strictly PG-13 - even if Elyza didn't have the mouth of a sailor - 2) Alicia is too broke to afford a cell phone of her own and 3), she'd been grounded after Nick had chewed her out in front of their parents after she sneaked out to talk shit at 3am with Matt at the nearby scrapyard.

She remembers it perfectly - with the ideal nuclear family seated at the dining table, digging into their meatloaf and dull vegetable whilst discussing topics that Alicia would yield a yawn at. She's about halfway through a mouthful of peas when Nick, with his big fucking mouth, decides to say, "Hey Alicia, aren't you still dating Matt?"

Well, she wasn't  _dating_ him; never had been, despite common belief. He wasn't bad looking, and Alicia could admit that the way he babbled on about the galaxies and stars made her head spin a little, but dating wasn't really her thing. Nevertheless, the entire family pauses, forks in mid-air when Nick decides to add, "and didn't you meet him last night?"

That all would've been fine if Alicia had left it there - sure, she'd probably get grounded for a while, but with finals coming up soon, it's not like she'd be  _bored,_ per se. But alas, Alicia feels a comeback brewing on her tongue and somehow, it's already halfway out of her mouth as her parents turn to glare at her.

"And aren't _you_ still getting every girl in our school pregnant, Nick?"

Needless to say, Alicia is banished to her bedroom, which she is puzzled at at how her parents think that's some kind of punishment. Her little cocoon felt like home, with posters depicting the Sex Pistols, Misfits and Crass in far-too-tight jeans on glossy printer paper. Her curtains had been swapped for an American flag covered in slurs, and a swamp of clothes, study guides and music CDs formed a mountain over her carpet. Despite the smell of organic cigarettes permanently lingering in the air, Alicia wouldn't change a damn thing.

"Fucking assholes, seriously," she hisses, slamming the oakwood door as loudly as she can, just to prove some kind of point. It echoes through the house like the music back at the club, which instinctively reminds Alicia of Elyza. 

Flopping on her bed, she lets an agitated groan rip itself from her throat as she wiggles out of her flannel and studded boots. Everything reminded her of the tough yet puppy-dog Australian woman: her punk posters, the dream catcher above her bed frame, and the horizon of plentiful stars stretching on for miles beyond her bedroom window. Mystery seemed like just another part of Elyza, which is something that Alicia assumes keeps pulling her back to the woman.

It takes her about four minutes to strip her bed completely and knot the blankets together, before tying one end to her dresser legs and tossing the other out of the window. She shoves on her boots and flannel in double-quick time, takes a look in the mirror--and oh crikey, her clump of brown and purple hair is stuck up at all angles and her eyeliner has been smudged halfway down her cheekbone.

Did Elyza really see her like that? _Christ._

Sneaking out in the early hours of the morning isn't exactly foreign to Alicia, and she certainly is used to being caught on the odd occasion. But thankfully, she manages to clear the backyard without being seen and takes the shortcut down one of the nearby alleyways. School assemblies had taught her to fear looming shadows while walking alone at night, but the cold steel of her pocket knife pressing against her outer thigh proved otherwise. 

The nearest payphone is about five minutes away from the Clark household, sitting ominously in the center of a neat patch of overgrown grass. The concrete of the -pavement is illuminated by a ray of amber-orange light from a nearby street lamp, and a few of the white-picketed homes still have a few lamps on inside. Alicia passes them by silently, wondering how many of them are laughing, how many are watching TV, how many are smoking a joint, how many are fucking, and how many are asleep, unaware of Alicia, or anyone else for that matter. She wishes she could be blind like them.

The payphone is collecting a whole lot of dust, Alicia figures, as she approaches it close-up. A spiderweb weaves over the digits, and the teen wipes it down neatly, before producing the crumpled note from Elyza, taking a breath and finally: plugging in the digits.

For some strange reason, it's only now, as the payphone emits it's third beep, that the brunette begins to feel anxiety bubbling in her stomach. She considers backing out, dashing home, and throwing herself back into bed after burning the note and forgetting about the alluring stranger altogether. But she never really gets the chance, because Elyza must have been waiting - she picks up on the fifth beep, for Christ's sake.

There's shuffling on the other side of the line, and the brunette can only presume Elyza must be in bed. It takes a moment and a string of grunts before the conversation ultimately begins, and Elyza lets out an oddly quiet, "Hello?"

Alicia's throat catches a dry lump, and she has to resist the urge to cough her lungs out into the receiver. She hesitates for a good long while, slightly bewildered at why she even came down here in the first place, why she plugged in the numbers; and what exactly she was expecting from this call. But Elyza's sheepish and quiet greeting tells her that maybe she isn't the only nervous one.

And the next time Alicia goes to speak, she doesn't hesitate.

"Hey," she breaths, breath frosting up against the thick Autumn air. Sliding both hands into the pockets of her flannel, Alicia gnaws self-consciously at her lower lip and grinds the toe of her boot into the overgrown grass. "It's me, Alicia."

An awkward pause sits on the other line and a bout of silence fills the receiver. Honestly, Elyza had never been so quiet in their short time of acquaintanceship, so Alicia feels that maybe she called at a bad time, that maybe she should hang up and call tomorrow. But as always, Elyza manages to shatter her nervousness with a few simple words.

"Fishnets Girl?" comes the hazy response, and the brunette lets out long burst of laughter at that. 

"Yeah," Alicia whispers, her tone barely audible. The teen glances around the darkened street before leaning in closer to the receiver. She says the next sentence in the most dopey voice she can muster, "it is I."

To nobody's surprise, Elyza has a genuinely gorgeous laugh. Overall, her voice is quite raspy with an edge of sweetness that makes one melt like honey at the mere sound. But her cackle, her giggle and her hiccups - which follow suite after - Alicia swears have been crafted by angels above. Even miles apart, stuck at a thread-bared payphone, Alicia's heart flutters at the thought of Elyza.

They share comfortable quietness for a moment, and the birds sitting in a nearby tree not too far from the payphone whistle a soft tune which keeps Alicia from nodding off. The sky above her is dark, with hints of grey and navy and dotted stars which shoot far over the night's horizon line. Alicia counts them absentmindedly as she hears Elyza wrenching herself out of bed, the duvets making a shifting sound before being replaced by the light patter of feet.

"Sorry -shit, I'm so unprepared for this. I didn't expect you to call so late," the Australian insists, before switching on a lightswitch, and the brunette can almost feel the light flood the room. "I was in the middle of snoozes; almost slipping into a kip when you called, so I'm sorry if I kind of sound high right now, Fishnets."

Alicia rests her forehead against the cool metal of the payphone, shaking her head against is absentmindedly. "It's all right, and I can always call back if you'd like, it's not important-"

Elyza interrupts, and Alicia hears the squeak of a plastic chair, "Nah, already up now. Might as well grab a bowl whilst I chat with you. Anyway, who in their right mind would turn down a chat with a pretty girl?"

A smile knitting itself onto her face, Alicia feels her cheeks flush a pleasant pink. She feels kind of worthless, stood in overgrown, muddy grass with smeared makeup at a payphone at stupid-o'clock in the morning, but Elyza manages to make it seem so _real_.It's like she's stepped into an alternate universe where everything is bigger, brighter, like fairy lights wrapped around a Christmas tree or a fairground with fluorescent, flashing lights. 

Alicia wants to put this feeling of cloud-nine in a jar and store it forever.

The brunette winds the telephone cord around a painted fingertip, despite her eyelids feeling heavy and her brain begging to be allowed to rest. She mumbles against the steel of the box, "Not often, apparently. I don't usually get phone numbers that often, so I suppose this is a treat."

"A treat for me, maybe," Elyza grins from the other side of the line, and thereafter comes the flick of what is undoubtedly a lighter. There's a pause, as Elyza inhales and exhales what Alicia assumes to be an illegal substance. 

"But anyway," the blonde continues, tapping something metallic against a tabletop. "What are you doing up so late? Aren't you like, twelve? Don't you need your parent's permission to use the house phone at night?"

Holding in an insult, the brunette simply shrugs her shoulders, and then nearly facepalms when she remembers this is a purely verbal conversation. "Very funny, Elyza. But I'm actually using a payphone; it's a long story as to why, to be basically my parents are uber dicks and-wait, why would you hit on me if you thought I was twelve?"

" _Joke_ , Fishnets," Elyza responds, wheezing for a moment before adding a, "you wanna talk about it? I mean, I've heard tons of shitty stories, lots of happy endings and a ton of tragic ones, too, so if you want me to listen and give you some unprofessional advice, then please, fire away."

Alicia's initial response is to decline politely, but then she remembers Nick and the scrapyard and the undercooked meatloaf and word vomit is erupting from her mouth before she can even elect to stop it. Throughout it all, Elyza keeps her promise and listens intently, occasionally letting out the odd, " _mhm_ ", " _oh right_ ", and " _yeah I get that_ " where she deemed it necessary. 

It's nice, comforting even, to have someone listen to her and not be condescending or belittling about her issues - a problem Alicia had often faced with guidance counselors, and which often resulted in a few too many outbursts on her part. Once she finishes, finding her breath and waiting for a response, Elyza takes another puff of her bowl and sighs softly.

"It's a teenage thing," she says, as if she's some kind of prophet, "trust me, when you move out, you'll be closer with your family than you ever imagined. Living in a house full of different people with different personalities at different life stages can be fucking _rough_. I mean, I slept on a couch in an apartment with 12 other people once and I've never been the same since-"

Alicia frowns, "Elyza, the point, please."

"Sorry," and the apology sounds somewhat sheepish. Elyza shuffles on the other end of the line, before the chair squeaks again and the pitter patter of footsteps resume, "what I'm trying to say is: try and get along with them. I mean, clean your room once in a while, don't use the phone too late, and if your mom wants you to walk somewhere, then just do it for fucks sake. It makes life easier for everyone involved, and you won't be as restrained as you are now."

She pauses, before letting out an oddly attractive cackle, "and maybe, in the long run, you and your parents might have a good relationship."

"You're talking from experience?" Alicia asks hopefully, sliding another quarter as she talks.

"I wish," Elyza puffs, before adding a nonchalant, "my parents have been dead for years." 

For a second or so, guilt floods over Alicia in ice cold waves. Here she is, complaining about her alive-and-well parents and how unbearable they were and how they made her so furious and upset for just _being parents_ , whilst Elyza was most likely been sitting at home in her kitchen, wondering about her dead parents and how someone could be so ungrateful for a blessing in disguise.

"Elyza, Christ, I'm sorry." Alicia offers pathetically, struggling to form coherent sentences without sounding like a socially awkward freak. 

From the other side of the phone comes a half-assed sigh, and the sound of a door opening floods the receiver. Elyza nestles back underneath the covers of her duvets, and proceeds to murmur a tired response. "Why? You didn't kill them."

"I know I didn't, but I was chatting bullshit-"

The interruption is rude, and Elyza sounds kind of melodramatic, but Alicia is thankful that the situation isn't too awkward. Because awkward can potentially send two people from "maybe friends" to "fucking enemies" at a moments notice.

"It happened when I was five. They went on a cliff trek and never came home. My grandma - God love her - kept asking the Search and Rescue officers for updates nearly every damn month, but every result was inconclusive."

Alicia feels her heart ache a little, and ducks pathetically like a dog with it's tail between it's legs. "That must have been so difficult for you."

"Not really," Elyza says casually, as if she'd practiced these lines and rehearsed them like a lifelong script, "they died when I was so young that I don't even remember them. How could I possible miss or love a person I didn't even know?"

Even as the conversation perks back up again and the girls switch to heartwarming topics such as recent kidnappings in the area, the inevitability of death and how a newbie punk rocker had been crushed in a wall or death last week at a nearby festival, Alicia keeps Elyza's parents in mind; can't shake the gut-wrenching feeling of guilt from her esophagus and can't seem to focus on anything else.  

"I'd love to chat with you all night, girlie," Elyza says, the sleepiness in her voice present, "and as much as I enjoy listening to you talk, I have work in two hours and a half a bowl of kicks to finish before my alarm goes crazy."

Alicia traces soft lines over the digits on the payphone, and feels a gust of wind flow over the skin of her neck. Autumn nips and bites at her forearms and droplets of lukewarm rain begin to fall from the sky, dotting all over the pavement beside her. 

"That's alright," Alicia says, and pauses for a moment, debating on her next choice of words. Eventually, she selects an attitude of  _fuck it all_ and speaks the next sentence without even the slightest hesitation in her voice.

"Elyza?"

"Yes, Fishnets?"

"I'm really glad I met you."

The line falls deadly for a moment too long, and Alicia immediately wants to grab the words and stuff them back into her mouth. Her heart pounds wildly like a drum and she feels beads of sweet beginning to pool on the creases of her palm. She sends a prayer to any and every God she can think of in that moment that she hasn't royally fucked things up.

Instead, Elyza replies with a gentle, "Me too."

Without warning, the line goes flat and an ominous beep sings through the receiver in it's place. Alicia digs through the pocket of her flannel in desperate hopes of finding some more money, but the search proves fruitless. She's left broke, slightly saddened and feeling like a major dick in the middle of an oncoming storm.

On the way back home, Alicia thinks about many things: how her parents are going to go insane, how the fuck she's going to get back into her bedroom and when she can speak to Elyza again. For now, she settles for reading the woman's crumpled note over and over again in her head, a stupid grin on her face the entire time.

And the same four words ringing in her head like a charm.

 

_i'll see you then._

 

**iii.**

For at least a week after meeting Elyza Lex, Alicia's grades at school begin to diminish rapidly. Though it's common knowledge to anyone with half a brain that she skips school more often than she bothers to show her face, Alicia is actually a pretty clever kid. So when even the slightest shift in grades occur, the Clark household erupts and demands answers for such a dishonour. And in this particularly unfortunate instance, Alicia is scolded and told she will be getting a tutor.

Alicia swears can almost feel Nick's beady eyes locked onto the back of her head as she stomps up the staircase, damn near snapping a couple of boards as she makes her way to her cave. He's probably laughing his ass off, thanking God for this gift of sweet revenge. Alicia, to her credit, is a second away from letting it go, but decides against it at the last second.

"Hey dipshit," the brunette calls out, and chuckles internally when Nick spins his head to look her way, "eat boot."

And he does just that. Alicia kicks her studded boot clean off of her foot, watches it spin through the air in slow-motion, and  _whack_ her brother square in the face. Triumph freckles her face, a chuckle tears itself from her throat and an impish sense of glee sticks to her ego when Nick lets out a high-pitched screech. Dirty shoes may be pretty punk, but they're also pretty disgusting (especially when you're on the receiving end of a particularly nasty one).

By the time Alicia manages to stop herself from cackling into her wrist, Nick has already launched the boot back her way - and thankfully, he misses by a long shot, the shoe zooming over the young girl's shoulder and bouncing off of the ironing cupboard with a smack - and is in the process of wiping down his dirt-drenched face with the hem of his Ramones jumper.

He pauses, eyes widening in horror. "Alicia, Jesus fucking Christ -- is this-"

"Yes," Alicia cuts him off with a wicked grin, admitting to herself that she is the human embodiment of the devil, just stripped of their horns and tail, "so have fun smelling like the innards of a wild cat for the next few weeks. It'll be an absolute bitch to get out."

Without warning, Nick leaps up the stairs and grabs for Alicia's ankle, which the girl replies to by kicking at him once more and sprinting up the final steps - remembering to snatch her boot back on the way there. She bars the bedroom door behind her a fraction of a second before Nick collides with it, a heavy and delayed  _bang_ reverberating through the house.

Wanting to twist the knife a bit more, Alicia adds an impish, "Wow Nick, how much do you weigh? Maybe it's the girls who have been getting  _you_ pregnant."

"You little shitstain-"

Thankfully, he never gets the chance to finish the string of unintelligent insults and curse words, because the brunette has already flung open the bedroom window and begun to clamber out of it by the time Nick has managed to open the door by a quarter of an inch. Alicia takes a moment to be grateful for the fact that her parents were out a business meal, but that thought is quickly destroyed when she spots the thick, black marks on the door frame of her room.

"Hey," she hisses, craning her neck a final time to taunt her brother. He's so much closer to getting the door open now that she can see his furiously squinted eyes through the crack in the door. She shoots him a sarcastic smirk and watches his eyes blow even wider. 

"Don't wreck my room too much - it's vintage."

And with that, Alicia has slammed the window shut and has shuffled halfway across the roof before Nick can even retort. 

Once she's out, however, the question of where to do springs up as a last minute thought. The tangerine-orange sun is sinking behind the horizon line of a nearby beach in the background, a cluster of clouds has ghosted over the clear blue sky and the fluorescent, flashing lights from the yearly fairground rides blink a hazy memory in Alicia's mind. She could go to any of them: stretch out on the beach, lay in a field under the sky, or maybe snaffle some cotton candy with a friend--

A  _friend._

 _Friend_ could cover a lot of ground, Alicia summaries, as she hauls herself down from the garage roof and lands gracefully upon a patch of neatly-trimmed grass, the blades wet and recently sprinkled under the soles of her shoes. 

Matt is a friend, despite the fact he often comes off as if he's looking for something more - but Alicia doesn't have the heart to tell him outright that he's barking up the wrong tree -, Nick is a friend - when he's not being a complete douche canoe, granted - and perhaps Elyza could be considered one, too.

Alicia thinks for a moment, shuffling her boots against the grass awkwardly and pondering what move to make next.

But she can't think of anything that doesn't require he making an effort. So, instead, the teen decides to hop the garden fence and make a beeline straight for that familiar, rusted payphone from the day previous. It doesn't take her long at all to clear the alleyway and end up in front of the phone box, sliding in another handful of quarters and listening for their  _clink_ so she can finally make her call.

Despite the fact that September had swooped in and had overtaken August, a strange, lukewarm heat had washed up over the town, and mere exposure to it made Alicia's skin feel prickly and sweaty to the point she has to resist the urge to shiver. A couple of idle birds hoot and whistle and a few others eye the young brunette from the street's lampposts. Something feels nostalgic about it all.

Elyza misses the first ring. And the second. And the third. She even goes as far to miss the fourth and fifth and dodge the sixth and eighth. The ninth beep lives momentarily before dying, and Alicia is left with a faint buzzing noise on the other line and a sinking in her chest.

 _"Hey, you're reached Elyza Lex,"_ comes a sweet, honey-like tone, and it honestly takes Alicia by surprise. The pre-recorded message doesn't sound like Elyza at all - she sounds nervous, scared, even. Each word is caught off with a waver so small that you'd have to be searching for it to find it.

_"I'm not here right now, but feel free to leave a message after the beep. Or don't, I guess. Whatever."_

Alicia finds herself giggling on mute at the final words, and presses the phone closer to her ear. She opens her lipsticked mouth, ready to spout all kinds of dumb shit and maybe even flirt a little. She figures it would be fine, as Elyza had done the exact same a little less than 24 hours ago, so what was the harm in batting her eyelashes a little?

But Alicia stops herself, and promptly clamps her lips shut when the message begins recording.

Instead, she settles for a boring and rushed, "Hey Elyza, it's Alicia. Call me back."

And then she's almost all out of quarters. 

She hooks the telephone back onto it's box as quickly as she can muster, before sliding her head into her hands, the sticky sweat from the sun now sifting into her hair - which was  _great._ Like an relentlessness wave, the words from last night comes swimming back to Alicia's head, guns blazing and pitchforks ready. She's reminded of what she'd said and how she'd said it, and lets out a long sigh when the words stick.

_"I'm really glad I met you."_

_No wonder Elyza didn't pick up,_ Alicia's mind relays as she kneads her knuckles into her cheeks, her eyes stinging with hatred.  _She probably thinks you're a fucking freak, that's like asking to move in on the second date. Alicia, you cock._

The young girl groans, resting her forehead against the coolness of the box, begging for any Gods listening to smite her for her idiotic and rash nature.  _And imagine if your parents found out you're crushing on a girl._

Nestling into the sleeve of her denim jacket, Alicia furrows her eyebrows and whispers to herself, "They wouldn't care. They love me."

_Yeah, that's why they got you a tutor._

Alicia is her own worst enemy, and she knows this. She knows her best features and her worst, and she's absolutely willing to accept them, but escaping from her own opinions of herself can prove quite daunting when they're all she's left with.

Time passes like nobody's business, and despite the fact that Alicia has no clue as to how long she rests her head against the payphone, cursing herself for being so stupid, she theorizes that she's been there for far too long. So, with that in mind, she delves into her pockets and manages to savour a final quarter. It slips into the machine and the _clink_ it makes on the way down is like music to Alicia's ears. 

It goes straight to voicemail again, and Elyza's godawful recorded message makes Alicia cringe. When it's over and done with, though, Alicia rethinks Elyza, herself and how to casually ask the older, more mature and undeniably attractive woman out to the same place that kids throw up and parents consider euthanasia. 

Inhaling and exhaling sharply, Alicia decides to do what she does best - improvise.

"Elyza?" she begins, shining pearly white teeth all big and wide, "Not sure if it's your thing, but if it is, then I'm gonna be at the fair until midnight, if you'll have me. And uh - sorry for spamming you with two messages, I know it's not ideal."

Alicia goes to hook the phone back onto it's box, but halts, winding her fingers tightly around it and raising it to her lips a final time.

"See you then."

 

**iv.**

 

Attending the town's yearly fair alone can prove somewhat embarrassing and definitely lonesome, which is the main reason Alicia swings by Matt's house and orders him to change into something nice for a "not date". Sure, it takes him a while to persuade his parents to let him step foot out of the house - especially on a Sunday evening - but Alicia smiles all sweet, grabs his arm and says, "I'll have him back by 11 o' clock."

He flushes bright red all the way to the bus-stop, which the brunette finds kind of hilarious. He offers to pay her fare, which she accepts graciously, and they race each other to the back of the bus - much to the driver's annoyance, once he spots the dirt marks all over the seats. 

"Pick a song," Alicia tells him, passing the boy her Walkman as she stills to catch her breath. 

"I don't know," Matt replies quietly, brushing brown bangs out of his eyes as he scans through the songs, "I mean, I'm not saying your music taste is garbage-"

Alicia holds up two slender fingers, "Right, I'm gonna stop you right there."

He laughs, low and fond in his belly. "Fair enough."

The late-September rain soaks Alicia through to the bone, which consequently makes her skinny jeans and denim jacket a whole lot heavier and uncomfortable to walk around in. As they drive through shallow puddles, shots of rainwater flick out over the stretch of the main road, colouring the pavement with splotches of grey ranging from shades of light to dark. As the two teenagers step out onto the street, Alicia makes sure to skip through a couple of puddles just for extra measure.

It's silent for a good, long while: the birds in the distance tweeting and singing for all they're worth. A couple of drunken couples slip out from the club around the corner, swapping spit and managing slurs through words, but Alicia pays them no mind. She simply slides on her headphones and quickens her pace, Matt hot on her heels.

Until she starts to pay him no mind, too.

"Hey, Alicia," Matt calls, as they approach the entrance of the park, it's looming, crimson fence twisted with ivy and vines; their branches beckoning the young woman closer in an hypnotic fashion. Alicia removes her headphones. Begrudgingly, yes, but she still removes them, and considers Matt lucky for meaning enough to prompt her to do so. She spins in her chunky heels and sighs.

"Yes, Matt?"

The young man shifts awkwardly from one battered sneaker to the other, twiddling his thumbs and playing with the skateboard under his arms to lull a distraction. He glances up at the sky, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he asks, "Alicia, why did you ask me out today?"

Alicia pauses, letting her heart-shaped lips draw closer together until they form an unimpressed line. She reopens them, and stops, unsure of how to answer that question without royally fucking things up. The silence drawls on, and Matt looks genuinely hurt when Alicia fails to fulfill him with an answer. 

The truth is, Alicia has no idea as to why she invited Matt to the fair. It was likely that she'd be spending the majority of the night with Elyza - if, and hopefully when, she shows up - but having Matt at her side served as some kind of soothing reminder, that she needn't be anxious or worried. And that's a screwed up thing to expect from him, but admitting she was using him as a comfort-wingman isn't exactly on Alicia's bucket list. 

Instead, she smiles softly, "What, I can't invite my best friend out to a fair? Is that against the rules now-"

"Nick told me about the woman, Alicia."

And just like that, Alicia swears her heart ceases to beat at all in her chest. It wasn't as if she hadn't admitted to herself that she found Elyza to be insanely alluring and endlessly fascinating, what with her half shaved head, piercings, suave attitude and witty comebacks, but having her own thoughts reflected so accurately and bluntly makes her stumble a little, searching Matt's hazelnut eyes for any sign of empathy.

Instead, she settles for a lame and barely audible, "Oh."

"Yeah," Matt murmurs softly, sliding his ebony hands into the dip of his 3-quarters, stumbling a bit himself. He looks somewhat surprised that Alicia hadn't tried to deny what he'd accused her of, but he doesn't appear to be disgusted or upset with her. Quite the opposite, actually: as he looks content.

The wind around the two of them picks up, a vortex of crisp, Autumn air picking up tree leaves and pieces of rubbish in it's waking. An ultraviolet hue from the tallest fairground ride peeks over the dark-red fence, illuminating Matt's ebony skin with a purple-grey appearance and masking his saddened face. Alicia wants to reach out, tug his sleeve and tell him she's sorry for using him like this, but she just can't bring herself to do so.

Because underneath her make-up; underneath everything, her facade of smart-ass comments and " _I-don't-give-a-flying-fuck_ " attitude, Alicia is just a coward. Nothing more and nothing less. 

"What," Alicia begins, trailing off softly for a moment as she adjusts the metallic buttons of her jackets, heart stammering wildly in her chest, "what did he say--what did Nick say, exactly?"

Matt glances at her, sucking in a cheek and pondering for a moment or so. He, again, brushes a dark bang out of the way of his vision and blows his eyes wide with a long sigh. 

"Just that you were both flirting like mindless teenagers," he says with a half-assed shrug. Then, without warning, his expression turns soft and gentle, "and that you looked happy."

Alicia stops, "Wait, really? He said that?  _Nick_ said that?"

"Yeah, I mean," Matt answers, visibly uncomfortable with the question, but Alicia is beyond the line of caring and has jumped it many times before, "I think that's the only reason he didn't rat on you to your mom, to be honest. Despite common belief, he's a pretty good guy deep down, and he cares about you more than anything."

"Deep down isn't really good enough," Alicia says, but reminds herself to practice what she preaches in the same breath.

Matt has the audacity to laugh at that, before allowing his face to turn stern and slightly apprehensive. "But yeah. He wants you to be happy, I guess. Even if that means-you're a..."

Frowning, Alicia challenges him with a flicker of her deep, emerald eyes and folds her arms.

"I'm not a lesbian, Matt, if that's what you're asking," she tells him, and then backs down for a split second when he seems genuinely confused.

Eventually, after a bout of silence, she continues quietly, "I'm bisexual. And yes, they are very different things."

"Oh." Matt says simply, sounding a little dumbfounded. He seems accepting of what Alicia has propose to him, but still a little unsure, but the brunette is happy with that result. Matt fiddles with the wheels on his skateboard, lost in thought for a while, before finally speaking again, "You're meeting her here?"

Smiling, Alicia nods her head gently. "Yeah, hopefully."

"Well then," Matt retorts with a sweet grin, before extending a digit and bopping Alicia on the arm with it jokingly, "go get her, tiger."

"Thanks, Matt," comes Alicia's reply, just as a family of 4 exit the park and damn near bump into her. The youngest child, around 6 or 7, is clutching desperately onto a red balloon. He lets go by presumed accident, and is dragged away by his mother after a waterfall of tears and cries come thereafter.

"Seriously," Alicia says loudly, wanting to mask the sound of the screeching child, "it means a lot."

Catching his cue to leave, Matt simply offers a few courteous and polite nods, before giving his friend one of their signature fist-bumps and a half-assed salute. With that, he turns to leave, beginning to pad softly back down the trail, a gust of wind tailing him like an aura.

Suddenly, he spins on the ball of his sneakers, making a caught-off sound like he'd remembered something last-minute. He says, "And Alicia?"

"Yes?"

He flushes, "I'm proud of you."

And for the first time in forever, Alicia Clark feels a burning sense of tranquility.

"I know you are, Matt."

And with that, he's off, slipping down the hill like thin wax until Alicia's eyes begin to burn from the sun. She reminisces for a while, wondering why she's even here, wondering if Matt's going to blab to anyone (not that she doesn't trust him or anything, but you never know). Instead, she grabs, like, four beer cans from her backpack - courtesy of her mother's liquor cabinet, of course - and heads on into the park whilst the alcohol burns her throat.

The fair is mesmerizing - all bright and new and neon and Alicia can't get enough. Sure, the grass is matted and sticky from autumn rain but besides that, the weather recently had been very generous indeed. The sun has moved to the North now, slipping through a cluster of clouds and peeking over an in-motion carousel. Alicia feels her face and lungs burning, and stains her lips with some more lager.

About halfway to the nearest sweet stand, two large yet soft hands curl themselves over Alicia's eyes, and her first instinct is to kick, punch and hit in any and every direction. She's actually in the process of doing that, mumbling a sour, "Get off- _you prick_!" as she thrashes left and right. But then she remembers Elyza, and then she feels moronic, and then she remembers the soft glide of Elyza's fingertips and is 100% certain she's not being kidnapped.

When Alicia turns on her heels, her suspicions are confirmed. Elyza stands before her, smile all wide and cheeky and perhaps a little too impish. An organic cigarette sips on her lower lip, and she seems to have actually made an attempt with her hair. It's been trimmed at the ends, so much so that it just about meets Elyza's collarbone. She seems to have shaven more of her hair off - around half of it, to be exact, and it could almost be a mohawk if it were shorter. 

"Hey," Elyza whispers, probably a tad quieter than she would've liked. She blows her cigarette, stumps it out with a slick motion of her heels, and brushes hair over her shoulders to get a better view.

"You been waiting long?" she asks, and Alicia resists the urge to answer with a pissed off  _Yes, you idiot._ Eventually, however, Alicia decides against it, simply tucking a brunette curl behind her earlobe and looking up at Elyza through the sunny breeze.

"Not at all," the teen replies, feeling a whoosh of wind pass her by, tendrils of hair scattering all over her face, "and is it a stupid question if I ask how you're doing?"

Elyza quirks an eyebrow, "Not that stupid," she huffs, before placing her hand to Alicia's lower back (which doesn't make her freak out  _at all_ ), and guiding her to the front of the candy stand, the queue decreasing scarily slow.

"I apologize for being late, by the way," Elyza insists, digging through the pockets of her too-tight black skinnies, a burgundy cloth handing from the back pocket, "I came straight from work. Can;t say the boss was happy about me skippin' out, though."

Alicia feels terrible, and sighs softly, "I'm sorry. You didn't have to do that for me."

Elyza shrugs simply, "Not your fault, it's not like entertaining a bunch of old sods is worth $7 an hour anyway, right? And I can live off of carbs for a while."

Alicia laughs, all real and organic, her teeth protruding through her lips. She'd always been self-conscious of her smile, being told from an early age that braces would be the only solution to her fucked-up teeth. One boy, after tugging her pigtails, had even had the nerve to say she looked inbred. Alicia had covered her mouth whilst laughing from that point forth. 

The rest of the night is definitely the best night Alicia's had in a while. Elyza buys her some cotton candy, challenging the 70-something-year-old Asian guy on who could make the candy treat quicker, which he had profusely refused. They'd had a go on the crane machines, where Elyza had fought tooth and nail to win Alicia one of the giraffes, and to no surprise, she soon ran out of quarters. Alicia insists that it's okay, but it becomes less okay when Elyza steals a teddy bear from one of the stands.

"Are we criminals now?" Alicia chuckles, gripping the soft material of the bear closer. Elyza winds an arm around her sneakily, and whilst Alicia deduces that she should probably feel strange, she doesn't in the slightest.

Elyza replies, "And that's only the tip of the iceberg."

They're wandering across the fairground when it begins to grow into a ghostown, the need for tumbleweeds becoming somewhat comical. Elyza is humming a soft melody, her eyes shining like a myriad of stars. And yet behind it all, Alicia swears to herself she can see a world of sadness behind Elyza, one that she may never get to see. 

"Oh!" Elyza chokes on a yell, instantly forgetting the beautiful night sky and practically hopping fences to get over to the carousel, looking like a small child in a candy store. Alicia only feels pride, and maybe something wild burning in her chest. She chugs, like, two beers and feels a little drowsy, before following the woman suite, the clock ticking dangerously close to 0 on the carousel's board.

"I want a go," Elyza whispers, and it's ironic how a woman inked with tattoos and dressed to the nines in black is so mesmerized by plastic horses. Nevertheless, Alicia digs through her pockets and finds some jangling change, instantly handing Elyza the money and encouraging her to go on forth.

"Go on, you fucking child," she laughs, and Elyza gives her a playful punch.

"You're the best," comes the reply, and Alicia has to wonder for a moment whether Elyza is actually a child or not.

It's one of the most wonderful things, seeing Elyza pick her horse carefully, admiring the cracked china of each seat and examining for the perfect name. It takes her a long while, actually, and the woman controlling the ride shoots numerous daggers her way when Elyza hops on a horse, only to promptly jump back off when another one catches her eye. But eventually, she does a full circle and comes back to a stallion with a golden mane, a horse named Curly.

"Holy shit, Alicia," Elyza says, mouth to the ground, "this is freaking fantastic!"

And Alicia presses her pinched fingertips to the bridge of her nose, hearing the circus music whirling and beginning to play softly in the background. "Grow up."

Off she goes, spinning and spinning around the world until it becomes something akin to an infinite loop. Alicia recalls the fact that she'd only known Elyza for less than a week, at best, but already she's certain that this woman won't be leaving her thoughts anytime soon. No, in fact, Elyza had stepped into Alicia's life without even closing the door or wiping her feet.

And Alicia loved it.

Elyza doesn't stop chatting on about Curly, and the fairground and how awesome it all is and how much she enjoys Alicia and her company until they're sprawled out in a nearby field, their legs pressed lazily against each others and cigarettes wrapped between their fingers. The night sky is a parade of stars, and they dance together in a beautiful ballet of silver. Alicia counts them, loses count, and then decides to count the constellations in Elyza's eyes instead.

"This is us, Alicia," she whispers, sleepy and cat-like, "this is our time to change things. This is our legacy, this is what we stand for. No government or organisation or secret agency can stop us. Which is why we have to support each other, which is why I want to be with you until the last star dies. Could you do that for me?"

"You're drunk," Alicia says, nervously evading the question, her heart thumping quickly in her chest. Elyza's band shirt is stained with alcohol and candy floss, and Alicia can;t help but recall perfect imperfection.

"Maybe," Elyza replies, words slurring on the final syllable, "but you're still as beautiful as when I'm sober."

And then she falls asleep, the fucking idiot, snoring loudly a few seconds later and thrashing around in the green blades beneath them. Alicia sighs, heavy and deep, wondering what Elyza dreams of.

After a while, Alicia feels herself succumbing to sleep, too. And when she does so, she holds the fairground teddy bear close to her heart. 

 

**v.**

 

Elyza's apartment is a very strange shade of unique. Prior to actually visiting it, Alicia had pictured a shabby old loft, with the odd wooden chair and maybe a few band posters. At best, she'd expected a TV, maybe, and perhaps a collection of discs. But when Elyza brings her along during the early days of winter, the young woman is shocked at what she sees.

And whilst she's trying desperately to make macaroni and cheese, nearly burning her eyebrows off, Elyza decides to ask, "So, you like?"

Alicia  _does_ like it, very much so. The walls are decorated with family portraits, one of Elyza with an older looking man - perhaps an uncle or something - and another of her with a teenage girl - perhaps a few years younger than Alicia -, which has a sticker reading  _Love you!_ on the upper corner.

There's black and white photos of The Beatles, Marilyn Monroe and a couple other household names. There's a turquoise dream-catcher hanging from the bay window, swinging delicately in the frosty breeze. A pair of square armchairs sit scattered all over the living room, alongside a homemade footrest. The kitchen is bare, but clean, with a chalkboard that's smudged with white. Alicia can't see Elyza making anything more advanced than a 6th graders lunch, to be honest.

And best of all, Elyza has a double bed, which is something the brunette has always longed for. It's made from rich oak and has large, looming posts on all four corners. There's a curtain curling around the area of the bed, it's material thin and wiry and a see-through purple. There's incense burning on the cabinet, emitting a sickly sweet scent that can be caught from even the kitchen. 

Elyza draws, writes and can even play the guitar. She'd sat Alicia down and made her listen to a couple tunes from The Ramones once or twice, which Alicia had secretly enjoyed a bunch. Elyza's voice is the perfect combination of Australian with a hint of American from her time in the States, which sometimes slips back and forth, but adds a nice ring to each word, especially Alicia's name.

A pad of sketches sit crumpled in a box by the corner of the bed, many of them drawn in charcoal, many of them of semi-naked women, and many of them just of the surroundings. One is of a woman, whom Elyza had admitted in a melancholic tone that she been her lover at one point. Alicia had refused to push further, simply stuffing the drawings back in their box and changing the subject swiftly.

But now, it's late December, and a thin blanket of snow has settled in on the town. Christians everywhere are raving, apparently, getting an excuse to turn up at non-believers homes and try to convert them into their - Alicia considers - cult. Some of them are nice, sure, but Alicia doesn't appreciate being told every Sunday when the Clark's attend church that she'll burn in hell for eternity for being into girls.

And that's another thing, actually. Elyza had asked her on a particularly freezing night, a night where Alicia had woken from Elyza's sofa and has sat on the window ledge, shivering and sobbing at how shit and pissy the world was, what her sexuality was.

Alicia felt the the word _You_ live and then die on her tongue, before she replied with a false, "I don't know", before bursting into frustrated tears once more.

Elyza soothed her, planted chaste pecks all over her neck, curled her fingers into Alicia's and had carried her to bed.

Now it's just a non-spoken thing: they go to bed together, Alicia wakes, makes them breakfast and then Elyza spends the next ten minutes drowning her pancakes in syrup or accidentally spilling coffee all over her net shirt.

Fast forward to now, where Alicia ducks behind her copy of a college-issued  _The Catcher in the Rye_ , before forcing a smile and saying, "Yes, I love you apartment. I always have."

" _Just_ my apartment?" Elyza inquires, elbow-deep in cheese.

Subtly flirting had also become a non-event for the two of them despite neither Alicia nor Elyza never asking the other girl out. Sometimes, Elyza would plant the girl with a dry kiss or try and hod her hand or compliment her about her beauty. Alicia found it frustrating how Elyza and no shame, not even in public where literally anybody could comment. 

But nevertheless, Alicia appreciates the compliments. Especially now, when Elyza's face melts, turns soft, and she offers a weak and somewhat pathetic, "You're so beautiful. Please don't hide your face."

Alicia mumbles dryly, "I'm not," and then adds, "that's for both things you said, by the way."

"It's all about angles," Elyza sings through a chunk of cheese that's stuck to the bottom of the pan. She eventually fixes the meal, loading each portion onto their plates as Alicia hops out of her armchair to make them some drinks.

"Angles can do a lot for a person," she explains as they seat themselves, and Alicia mimicks a praying position which makes Elyza laugh for a moment before continuing her speech.

"Sometimes beauty is founded on how you view somebody."

Alicia nods in silent agreement, tucking into her meal immediately thereafter. She thinks, reflects and takes Elyza's words into account probably much more than she should. She twirls a piece of purple hair around her ear and pursues her lips, looking upward.

And then she giggles through a mouthful of mac and cheese.

"What," she begins, holding her stomach as she wobbles in place, "like you right now? Nice angles, Elyza. What do you call this, Angle Cheeseface?"

The mood is shattered when Elyza leaps upwards and looks in the mirror, seeing a faceful of cheese staring right back at her. She groans loudly and sprints out of the room to grab a tissue whilst Alicia nearly wets herself.

"God, Elyza," the brunette mumbles to herself quietly, smiling contently even as she hears Elyza break something and swear profusely in the background, "what would I do without you?"

 

**vi.**

 

Elyza gets arrested exactly two weeks later. Alicia remembers waking up from a hazy nap with bedhead to see Elyza flinging her keys around the apartment, before planting a wet kiss to the brunette's head and stomping out of the door, mumbling something about a parade. It turns out, she'd slipped out to a  _Legalize It_ rally, mind blazing and her blunt blazing, too.

Apparently she'd got into a fight with some middle-aged, middle-class prick who had told her she was going to hell and that Satan would not even want her. Elyza, being drunk on almost three shots by this time, managed a, "With you, I'm already there," and then flew at him, jumping over the chain gates and  _whacking_ him square in the jaw. This soon broke out into a fully-fledged fight, a circle of onlookers crowding them with eager and saturated eyes.

The guy suffered a dislocated jaw and a broken nose by the time police officers had decided to actually do something for once, and Elyza had managed to crawl away with some minor cuts and bruises and maybe a morning of hangover to look forward to. Alicia was taken aback once she was told that she was on Elyza's immediate contacts list, and found the nearest taxi, jumping in and evading the oncoming rainstorm.

"Police station." she says bluntly, seeing a pair of hands tap themselves on the wheel. Whoever is driving is a bit on the tanner side, stinks of nicotine and owns way too many lighters - the little things sitting in his open compartment. She doesn't feel like engaging in conversion with him, but he talks about how the government and police are corruption and how he feels sorry for Alicia's friend being taken in.

"We're here."

"Thanks," Alicia says, digging around in her purse.

"Free of charge," the man says, an obvious smoker, and Alicia can almost feel his smirk, "show those police pigs what for, would you? Been screwed over too many times by the like."

Alicia thanks him once more, notes his _Black Flag_ sticker on the bumper and his scraggly beard before hopping out into the rainstorm and darting over to the station. It takes a while to actually press through, but Alicia manages to soothe her oncoming panic attack. Eyes are everywhere on her, judging her for her clothes and her running makeup and her deer-in-headlights expression. But all she's focused on is Elyza.

And when they bring her out, stinking of stank weed and whiskey, Alicia resist the temptation to ask them to put her right back in the cell.

"You came for me," Elyza slurs as Alicia fills in a pink form, eyebrows crossed and eyes burning from lack of sleep.

"Yep," the brunette replies coldly as she hands the sheet over to the officer at the welcome desk, who shoots her an empathetic look, "but you're still a fucking idiot. I can't believe you'd do something so stupid, and why would you got to a parade without me?"

"You were sleeping," Elyza says smugly, face pressed against the cool granite of the countertop, "ain't gonna wake that cute ass up."

The journey back is horrendous, the two weaving in and out of careless pedestrians. There's a clump of graffiti on the side of the station's wall, some of it reading, "PIGS", "RISE ABOVE" and "WAY TO HELL" alongside some inappropriate doodles. Alicia hums at them apathetically, and thanks her lucky stars when the warmness of the apartment sinks into her and Elyza sinks into the sofa.

"No," the blonde whispers, when Alicia turns to get her some lemon water, "stay with me, Alicia. Stay with me. Never leave me."

Alicia wants to shrug it off, go home and slip into her own comfortable bed. She'd been home occasionally for the odd change of clothes or to pick up homework from Nick due to all the classes she'd been missing, but her parents had become less of relatives and more of a distant memory. Elyza was her home now, even if that meant home was a drunken slob of a woman with hygiene issues.

 _But home isn't a place_ , Alicia remembers,  _it's a heartbeat, open arms, and three special words._

So she decides to stay, tucking a feathered blanket over Elyza's boneless body and sitting next to her. Beads of sweat slide across her forehead, her eyes are lidded and her hairs an absolute mess. But she still looks perfect.

 _God_ would Alicia would miss that face, so she thanks the man whom Elyza assaulted in her head for not pressing charges.

Alicia snaps out of her trance when she hears three special little words, her entire body freezing and going into flight or fight mode. She's not sure whether she heard correctly, whether Elyza was dreaming, or whether the girl had said something meaningless and empty in her haste to drift asleep. 

Whatever the case, Alicia stays silent and still for a good while, before shutting off the lights and slipping out of the apartment as quiet as can be.

 

**vii.**

 

 _God,_ Alicia doesn't even remember how she got her, with Elyza's sweat-slicked face dipped in the crook of her neck, with the woman's stark naked frame shivering below her. It's the early stages of spring and yet Alicia can feel a heatwave pushing through.

But that's not why they're here. No, they're here because Elyza has been blanking her plain and simple for two goddamn weeks. It had gotten to such a petty point that they'd agreed to meet up for coffee, before fighting, words attacking and insults lashing, before they'd begun swapping spit in the unisex bathroom, Elyza's taunt leg hitched up over Alicia's curved hip.

" _Please_ ," Elyza whispers, and it's a plea Alicia aches to fulfill. She trails a damp fingertip over the woman's sternum, dipping it into her bellybutton before trailing further downward and gripping the hem of her lace underwear far too tightly.

Here she is, Elyza Lex, well-known sweet-talker, heart-breaker and professional badass, pleading like a pitiful whore for Alicia's touch, her soothing words and kisses. Alicia promises she'll help, murmuring a soft, "Want you so much" before pressing the length of her tongue to Elyza's pulse point. It's helplessly arousing how she arches her back, lifting her neck up to help Alicia explore and opening her lips further as an invitation (one which the brunette gratefully accepts).

Alicia can't help but think how she doesn't deserve this masterpiece, this painting, this creation between her fingertips, choking on every syllable for Alicia to just  _hurry up._ Because at the end of the day, Elyza is gorgeous and breathtaking and endlessly wonderful whilst Alicia is just a liar and a faux creation of naivete. 

She presses two wet fingertips to Elyza's pelvis, trailing around in soft circles again until she decides to yank the fabric down and  _just get on with it._

Elyza's panting helplessly and coming feverishly mere minutes later, a tumble of  _"Alicia," "Oh God"s,_ and most shockingly:  _"I fucking love you. Fucking love all of you, Christ."_

And they cry, like idiots, tears streaming down their faces as they know this can't be together. Whilst their tongues are prodding and searching and fingers curling and aching, the two of them desperate to be together as one, the forces of the world just keep pushing them apart. Alicia knew, all along, she couldn't have this, this beautiful woman for all eternity. But she thanks the Gods for the time she's been given.

"I love you," Elyza says, voice wobbling. And Alicia feels like this is the first time she sees Elyza, the  _real_ Elyza without intoxication and admiration clogging her brain.

"And I love you," Alicia says, and it feels like a lie, even though she knows she means every word.

They can' keep their hands off of each other for the rest of the night. As soon as their eyes lock, either Elyza or Alicia is pouncing on the other, and it's all uphill from there. The ultraviolet hue from the nearby bar where they met slithers through the curtains as sounds of wet slicks and breathless sighs fill the bedroom, and Alicia thinks about she'll miss these ultraviolet nights. 

It's only later when she's getting changed, still sobbing silently as Elyza sleeps, that she  _knows_ she'll miss these nights. And she hopes for another summer, another spring, where Elyza and she can live together like any other couple would: breakfast together, work together, smile together, eat together.

And she hangs onto that thought even as she lays a gentle kiss on Elyza's forehead, whispering into her ears before disappearing into the night and daydreaming about her fantasy life with the woman she loves.

"I'll see you then."

 

**viii.**

 

Elyza sends her messages, day in and day out, rolling up outside Alicia's school on her leather motorbike, waiting and biding her time. Nick warns her whenever he spots that signature head of blonde tufts at the gate, to which Alicia sneaks out of the schoolyard through a beaten bush, pressing back tears and telling herself to just _forget_ , for Christ's sake.  

She even has a note left in her locker, which she assumes must have been slipped in by one of Elyza's younger friends or bar buddies. She wants to rip it up when she reads, but cannot bring herself to do anything of the sort when she sees how much love Elyza has put into each cursive letter.

 

_meet me at the payphone on friday midnight._

_i'll only be there once, but i'll understand if you don't show._

_and i'm sorry. so fucking sorry._

 

_e.l._

 

Alicia, just the spite a non-mandatory invitation, schedules a night at one of the local festivals with Matt and a couple of his friends. She feels depressed somehow even after they arrange everything, and yet her mother and father are thrilled that she's back, attending school more days than she used to and spending an awfully suspicious amount of time in the bathroom (where she's actually plotting on how to run away with Elyza).

And when it gets to Friday, classes whirling by and the world seeming to stop for nobody other than Alicia Clark, she makes her decision.

She gets her rucksack ready, changes into some fresh clothes and diva make-up, before slipping into the hallway. Nick's playing on his GameBoy and is currently slouched against the bathroom door, his eyes transfixed on a digital screen.

Alicia gives his leg a little nudge, and sighs when he looks up only to glare at her.

"If anyone asks," she says, gripping the straps of her backpack tighter, "you didn't see me."

He shrugs, blonde hair obscuring his view. "Whatever."

She goes to leave, and stops halfway down the wooden hill, her brain compelling her to be emphatic for a moment or so. 

"And Nick?"

"Hm?"

"You're actually pretty okay."

Alicia doesn't wait around for an answer, as she's pretty certain he's still angry at her for the boot incident a couple months back. Instead, she smirks through her irritation and slips silently out of the house, heading down the street with one intention running back and forth through her mind.

She reaches the payphone a few minutes too late, the black sky lit with spinning stars and planes alike. She spots the leather bike, the tufts of bleach-blonde hair and immediately begins sprinting.

Elyza is sobbing wildly, her front soaked with tears and sorrow. They encase each other in a hug, and the taller woman swings Alicia round, not caring who stops to see, who switches on their lights to see the two homos out front showing off their love. Alicia flips an imaginary enemy the bird, before pulling back to close the gap between hers and Elyza's swollen lips.

It's way too sloppy and wet to be their best kiss, and their teeth clack and their tongues miss their targets by miles, but Alicia has ached for this, wanted this for weeks. And she knows Elyza feels the exact same.

The Australian retracts for a moment and presses their foreheads together in a moment of pure daze.

"I missed you," she says.

Alicia nods, and replies with a wobble in her tone, "And I loved you. I love you. I will always love you."

And with that, they rev up the motorbike and hop onto it, blaring the radio at a volume that pierces the brunette's ears. They hug, kiss and love each other as much as humanely possible in that moment, wanting nothing more than for time to stand still.

And then they disappear, sliding down the road until they become a part of the darkness.

 

**ix.**

 

Alicia doesn't want to think about the past anymore; it leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

This only leaves the future, and Alicia walks into it with her eyes and her heart wide open. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://www.oddbt.tumblr.com)   
>  [twitter.](https://twitter.com/oddbot_)


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